


A Proper Sleepover

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Coda, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, post episode 159
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”





	A Proper Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

> *appears out of nowhere*
> 
> I know this podcast is going to break my heart and I respect it, but I also wanna write the AUs were we get some happiness before our doom. Because gosh darn it, I like some softness in these parts.
> 
> I may write more later. Who knows. I don't. But you can find me at goodluckdetective.tumblr.com if you wanna talk about it. 
> 
> Also if you want to translate or adapt this into a podfic just send me a note and I'll probs let you.

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely but biding his time to seize his crown, Jon and Martin end up in Panopticon.

Magnus is still there, the all seeing eye, but Martin pulls Jon’s hand away from his side as he reaches for the pocket knife he keeps in his belt.

“If you kill him, you become him,” Martin whispers. It isn’t due to a fear of being overheard. The Lonely takes your voice over time, making you smaller, less intrusive. Martin isn’t sure he could scream even if he tried. Jon stares at the body of Magnus and then back at Martin.

“Later,” Jon says to Magnus, an empty shell of many eyes. He looks back to Martin. His gaze is piercing, unsettling, but somehow Martin finds it a comfort. He’d rather be seen than invisible. “Let’s go upstairs.”

They do. The offices are a mess but Not!Sasha is gone and so are Julia and her fellow hunter. There are no bodies but plenty of blood, and Martin feels a pang of concern that he hasn’t let himself feel in months. They run through the halls, Martin following Jon who somehow knows the way. When they get to the end, Basira and Daisy are there. Alive.

But not well, Martin realizes with a start. Basira is covered in blood but not hurt. In her arms is Daisy, who also looks mostly uninjured. But Daisy is different. Her nails are now claws that scrape against the floor. As she breathes heavily on her hands and knees, Martin can see her teeth are now pointed. When she looks up her eyes are that of a cat. 

Martin watches Daisy’s gaze go right to Jon’s throat and he steps in front of him without thinking. Basira grabs Daisy’s elbow, whispering in her ear. Daisy’s blood soaked hair drips droplets onto the floor.

“Looks like we’re both monsters now, Archivist.” There is a growl to Daisy’s words but Martin is relieved to find her no longer looking at Jon’s throat. Jon moves in front of Martin, his hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“Maybe for now,” Jon says. “But perhaps not forever. If we're lucky.” 

Daisy looks at him for a long moment then makes a noise that could almost be close to a laugh. Basira pulls her close and that same noise morphs into something loosely resembling a sob. 

After that, after checking that all current threats aren’t at their doorstep still, they mobilize. They don’t bother to clean up the blood, but Basira and Daisy head to the bathroom to at least wash it off themselves. Martin begins to head to his own office but he is stopped by Jon seizing his wrist with a strength that’s surprisingly strong from such a lean man. When Martin turns back to look at him, his gesture loosens but he doesn’t let go. 

“I-um,” Jon says. For a man who knows so much, he never seems to know what to say, Martin realizes with a start. “Sorry, but if you are heading somewhere, can I come with? Probably not best to be alone.” 

Martin realizes with a start that he’s probably right. He’s so used to being alone at this point that it’s almost his default state, the comforting blanket of loneliness a shield. That shield won’t protect him if the hunters decide to come back.   


If he’s not careful that shield may smother him too. That’s what Jon is worried of, Martin thinks, given his almost frantic expression. 

_“He actually missed me,”_ Martin thinks. And isn’t that a revelation through all the static still in his head. 

He lets Jon come with him and he collects some of his things. His business cards say “Assistant to Peter Lukas” and Martin doesn’t miss Jon picking one up, scowling and then throwing them all in the recycle. After he has his files about the Extinction and his favorite poetry journal, he looks up to find Jon texting. 

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.” 

They pick one of the conference rooms for the “sleepover” though when Martin calls it in front of Daisy, she gives him a look that makes him almost vanish on instinct. They do a little planning, but everyone is exhausted and Martin soon finds himself drifting off. The Lonely, he thinks, takes a lot out of a person. Perhaps it is because exhaustion is something that so easily isolated people.

When he wakes, it is dark inside the conference room. Basira and Daisy are curled up next to one another, holding hands tight. Both of their weapons are at their respective sides. The Guardian and the Hunter, both taking respite where they can. 

Martin himself is asleep next to Jon, his head next to Jon’s thigh. There is a hand softly brushing through his hair and Martin doesn’t have to look up to know who’s hand it is. Months ago, the thought of this situation would have turned Martin into a stuttering, embarrassed, mess. Now, he is too tired to feel anything but content. 

John is reading through his files from the sound of the papers ruffling, his phone’s flashlight providing the sole illumination. Martin closes his eyes as he hears Jon turn another page. Like this, he can almost pretend it is like the old days when he thought of the Archives as a quiet place where papers were filed and statements were taken. Not the world where you cannot remember your co-worker’s true face or your boss rips out the worst truth you’ve ever suspected and read it to you out loud.

“My notes are on the back of each folder,” Martin says. Jon doesn’t seem surprised by his voice; he likely already knew Martin was awake.

“I saw them. They’re comprehensive.”

“Not bad for a fake master’s degree.”

“Quite.”

There is more silence. It isn’t like the silence of the lonely, the sound of paper and the other’s breathing filling up the small space. Martin can still hear static but it is faint, held at bay by friends and a warm hand in his hair.

“Martin,” Jon says, his voice soft like it was in the Lonely. “I _ thought you might be lost _ ,” he had said to Martin within that endless fog. And in many ways, Martin was. Lost upon a journey he had chosen but lost none-the-less. “Peter said something to me in the Lonely.”

The static in Martin’s ears grows louder.

“He said we barely knew each other,” Jon continues. “And I…I would like to prove him wrong.”

The static lessens. “Hm?” 

“I am a monster,” Jon says, voice a different kind of soft now. The kind of soft when one feels all too human. “I crave other’s terror, I haunt others' dreams, and I am worried I will keep getting worse until I stop caring about getting worse. But-“ There is a deep breath. “I don’t want to be. A monster that is. Not forever.”

Martin turns now to look up at Jon. He’s looking down at him, his eyes lined with dark circles, his expression pinched with anxiety. Martin wants to wipe it all away. He knows he can't, he is not an idiot, but he still wants to try. “And?”

Jon closes his eyes. When he opens them, they seem to lack the weight of the Beholding, if only for a second. They look...soft. “I’d like to try. To be someone worth knowing. Worth...loving. If you’d still like me to be.”

Martin processes that. The words, the inflection, the meaning underneath. Even with the weight of the Lonely fresh, he can feel longing and hope and love bubble up in his chest. Maybe enough to make him smile for the first time in weeks.   


“Yeah,” Martin says, throat dry. “I think I would.” 

The smile that appears on Jon’s face is soft and relieved and excited all at the same time. Martin wonders how long it will take him to get back to holding all those emotions at once again.

“I’ll need time,” Martin says. “To remember what it’s like to be-“ To be what? Around people? To express feelings? To stop pretending he is nothing but lonely? He can't find the words so he waves his hand, hoping Jon’s knowing powers get the point across. Given Jon’s nod, they seem to.

“I can wait. Sleep. You’re tired.”

Martin does. As he drifts off, Jon’s hand still in his hair, he hears him speak one more time. Jon's voice is quiet but firm.  


“I love you as well. Don’t vanish on me.”

“I won’t,” is the last thing Martin says before he drifts off to a static-free slumber.

  
  
  
  



End file.
